With love in the loving cup
by gidget89
Summary: He'd seen Amy's wrath, and while he was reasonably sure Rory wouldn't give Amy his sword, he wasn't nearly as convinced Amy wouldn't steal it herself and run him through if he didn't comply. Spoilers for 6x07. Written for the spoiler song ficathon.


_**With love in the loving cup**_

He'd never planned on this. A proper wedding, a proper _Earth_ wedding, but once he'd asked her to marry him it lead to Amy being told and suddenly he found himself fixed with her glare. The particularly useful '_do what I want you to do or face my wrath_' one. He'd seen Amy's wrath, and while he was reasonably sure Rory wouldn't give Amy his sword, he wasn't _nearly_ as convinced Amy wouldn't steal it herself and run him through if he didn't comply.

And so. A wedding. Banquet hall and all. Rory came from Leadworth, Amy had been raised here – of course everyone showed up for the wedding of Amy's daughter from the future and that funny imaginary friend of hers. The people of Leadworth were startlingly laid-back about these types of things by this point.

His agreement only came after he warned them that _they_ could plan it and _he_ would just be popping forward with River to the night before the wedding. _"I just want to marry her now –it's a quiet time, no monsters, no universes imploding that I'm aware of. Plus I rather find that I can't __**possibly**__ wait months for it, and frankly – why would I? Time machine!"_ He'd explained before grabbing River's hand and pulling her over to the Tardis doors while she shouted over her shoulder that '_they would handle the outfits_'.

That had been yesterday, and River had chastised him once they reached the Tardis, but he knew more than enough ways to distract her by then. Despite not having to wait through months of anticipation, he still found that the wedding itself passed in somewhat of a blur; he remembered the music and the fact that River wore blue instead of white, her hair was down and her smile had trembled at the corners belying her outward calm. He remembered the kiss most definitely. It had been an excellent kiss – no nerves, no awkwardness, just soft and sweet and full of promise. Lifetimes of promise.

And now – now there was a hall filled with people he didn't know and he was leaning against the same doorframe he'd watched Amy and Rory dance from once upon a time, a long, long time ago. River and Amy were the ones on the dance floor now, laughing and twirling together, holding hands as they moved to the music. River's hair bounced with her movement and he smiled slightly, watching her momentum undulate through her curls.

"So." Rory's voice startled him and he stood upright, feeling stiff and awkward, which was a rather common feeling around Rory lately. Had been ever since Demon's Run. Because Rory looked at him now with a constant low-level of accusation lining his gaze. River was his daughter, after all.

"So – uh, just watching them. Dance you know. They're having fun. Fun! You know, weddings are... _fun_." The Doctor stammered and fidgeted under Rory's calm stare. Finally Rory cracked a smile, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Congratulations, then Mr. Song." Rory grinned, clearly taking delight in this turn of events.

"I'm not Mr. Song! That's not how it works!" His gaze was pulled involuntarily back to the dance floor where River was hanging on to Amy's shoulder while pulling off her red shoes – he'd insisted, even when she'd protested that red shoes don't go with a blue dress. He'd responded that anything goes with _anything _as long as it was on her.

Rory simply gazed at him with an arched brow and an incredulous expression. "Yeah it is."

"At the very least I'd be _Doctor_ Song. But then _she's_ Doctor Song so that'd be confusing." His hands pulled at his lapels nervously and Rory laughed.

"Hey don't look at me – I couldn't get _either_ of them to take my name. What do I know?"

"But you get Pond! And that's a lovely name! And River – well, River's River. I don't think any force in the universe could make her do anything she didn't want to." He paused, and frowned before glancing back over at Rory who stood with his arms crossed, waiting. "Including me. Oh God, that _is_ how it works!"

"No worries mate, you learn to enjoy it." Rory grinned, before his smile morphed into a glare. "Not _too _much though. That is my daughter. And... it still feels weird to say that. You think it's ever gonna not feel weird?"

"I imagine once she gets younger than you it won't be as odd. Could take a long long while though, depending on how slowly she's aging and if she's regenerated at all though..." The Doctor mused, missing Rory's look of horror completely.

"Can we not..?" Rory spoke weakly and the Doctor looked up apologetically.

"Are you scaring my husband again Doctor?" Amy's voice rang out from the dance floor, as she and River moved over to them with matching mischievous grins.

"No!" The Doctor threw a panicked glance over at Rory who nodded solidly. "Not at all. No scaring happened here, not even a little bit, Pond. If anything, I'd say he's actually scaring _me_-"

"With what sweetie?" River's smile transformed into a knowing smirk – he'd get irritated really, but it _was_ one of his favourites of all her smiles. It was a three way tie between this one, the soft smile she got after... _well_, and the way she lit up when she was laughing. Definitely one of those three. Or maybe one of the other five thousand she had.

"He called me Mr. Song." He finally muttered, and River stepped in closer to him, her head tilted to hear him better. She laughed out loud – oh favourite smile number two – and then grinned over at her father.

"Mr. Song. I _like_ it." Her voice was filled with mirth and the Doctor glared.

"_Doctor_ Song. Wouldn't it be Doctor Song?"

"And what _exactly_ are you a Doctor of, sweetie? Name, _not_ a title." She was teasing him, he knew, but he found himself spoiling for an argument anyway – he did so love their arguments.

"I have loads of Doctorates – which you _know_. Not the medical area, obviously, because eugh – but your doctorate is only in _archaeology_, and you don't see me holding it against _you_." He stood taller and she glared at him, moving close enough that she could poke a finger at his chest.

"Archaeology is a valid, respected field and it's _your fault_ I became one anyway-"

"_My_ fault? Don't blame me! If anything blame Rory! All those Last Centurion stories got you all interested in history. Which is all well and good – I like a bit of history myself, love it actually – future too. But the point is you're studying it the wrong way. You don't _guess_. You don't guess! You go there, _experience _it, _live_ it! Bask in it!" Amy and Rory were watching the back and forth with amused expressions that went unnoticed by both the bride and the groom.

"I like the _guessing_! It's a mystery and what you do is cheating. It's like looking at the last page before you've even read the book. Don't think I don't know _why_ Agatha Christie never fooled you, Doctor. As if you could sit through three hundred pages of exposition to find out if you were right or not!" She was smiling despite her words and he found himself grinning too, his hands were sliding over his lapels repeatedly and she had slid her hand up his chest so that she could play with his bowtie.

"I do not _cheat_. I experience things – that's hardly cheating. Archaeologists just blindly guess – ignore all the facts, don't account for-" Her hands tightened around his bowtie and she jerked him forward until her lips met his and she effectively shut him up. Her hands slide up to frame his face and his hands dropped to her waist, pulling her closer.

"You married an archaeologist." She smiled as she pulled back, her hand wiping a bit of lipstick from his mouth. "Deal with it, Mr. Song."

"It _doesn't_ work like that." He protested much less vehemently than he had with Rory and he could hear Rory's amused chuckle off to their left.

River simply smiled and kissed him again, swift and harsh enough that it set his hearts racing in his chest. "Yeah, it does." She looked at him expectantly and he sighed. He hated when she won. And yet loved it too – River was a generous winner, so in a way even when she won, he still _won_. Which was why he let her win so very often.

"_Yeah_, it does."


End file.
